


sнαℓℓ ωε ∂αηcε?

by Renegade_Reaper



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Ballet, But mostly angst, F/M, Gil is in love aw aw aww, Hip Hop, Human Names Used, Lots of Angst, Street Dancing, competitions, dance, some TW in later chapters, there's some fluff too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:23:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renegade_Reaper/pseuds/Renegade_Reaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning! I change a few details almost every time I update this (coughperfectionistcough), so don't freak out when you see that something has changed! If you have any questions or concerns, you can comment on this and I will gladly answer them for you~ happy reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Coffee and Hangovers

Maybe if Gilbert hadn’t gotten so drunk the night before, he wouldn’t have tried to and succeeded to scale a chrome and glass ten story apartment building. Maybe he wouldn’t have mistaken his best friend Francis’ house and climbed into a stranger’s apartment. Maybe she wouldn’t have helped him across the hall to Francis’ actual apartment. And maybe he would have woken up the next morning and lost himself in his hangover, forgetting all about the girl across the hall. But he hadn’t.  


Gilbert was not a very sentimental man. Not at all. He never took comfort in silly beliefs such as Santa Clause or so called Faeries. When he was little, he figured that things like that were for kids that were weaker or more ‘unawesome’ than him and thereby bugged the hell out of literally anyone he could. It was easy to say that Gil was not a very popular child. It was also easy to say that because of his being able to annoy anyone away, he became very lonely. Very.  


The loneliness grew over the years, until the albino found that his ‘awesomeness’ had become a barrier to keep the world out. To keep himself from getting hurt. He was positive that his barrier could never be broken by anyone.  


Until.  


Until a sweet, lovely little angel had undone his walls and unraveled his secrets in little under than ten minutes. Of course, Gil had been drunk at the time. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to get past him at all! Right? Right. He knew so.  


Or maybe she would’ve.  


Maybe she would’ve seen right through him, made him simply kneel before her and bare his most secret thoughts and dearest secrets to her. Fix me, he might have begged. Make me knew. Make it stop hurting-  


But instead, he had been drunk. Of course he had been drunk. When wasn’t he drunk on a Friday night? But even in his drunken stupor, Gilbert had craved that open, lovely feeling the second he had been out of her sight. He had to make it right. Somehow.  


So here Gilbert Beilshmidt stood, his breath completely taken away and his red eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at the girl who had been his savior the night before. The albino had never thought he’d be swept into one of those cliché girl-across-the-hall love stories.  


But _damn_.  


She was no girl. She was an angel. Coffee colored hair that swept down her voluptuous body, curling lazily and resting against her ample chest. Green eyes that rivaled the bright color of emeralds themselves. A smile to challenge the sun, rosy lips the color of fine wine, tan skin that shamed girls who went to get supernatural tans in those beds. Gil had never understood what the term ‘love at first sight’ in his twenty three years.  


He grasped the concept completely now.  


The German understood what it was like to suddenly be left scrambling for words, for a single glance to strip him bare of any breath, feeling, everything. He suddenly knew what it was like to be left weak at the knees at a single breath. To feel the sick nervousness attack his stomach ruthlessly. And to think; he had scoffed at every couple he had seen in his lifetime.  


“Are you alright?”  


Her voice. It was like amber honey poured over sweet berries, like everything sweet in life. There was passion, purpose to be found there as well. And her accent was undeniably Spanish. Gilbert blinked, snapping himself out of the daze he had somehow slipped into. “Eh? Oh- Ja! I’m fine. I’m great. I’m uh- I’m Gilbert. But you can call me Gil. Everyone else does.”  


The angel smiled brilliantly up at him, her eyes sparking with amusement. The German felt weak in the knees again. “I remember. I’m Carmen. Lovely to meet you properly, Gil.”  


Oh. Say my name again. Say it every day and never, ever stop. I never want you to stop talking. I-  


“How’s your head doing?”  


Gilbert blinks his red eyes, tipping his head to the side. Oh, right. He had a hangover. “It’s… not too bad, actually.”  


That, of course, was a downright lie.  


Carmen laughed softly, taking his hand and pulling him into her apartment. His heart skipped a few beats as she dragged him in. “You aren’t very good at lying, you know, amigo. Come in, come in. Coffee helps with hangovers, did you know that? I don’t remember who told me that; I only just became legal drinking age and haven’t been fortunate enough to experience a hangover yet.”  


It took a little bit for him to adapt to her speedy dialect and accent, but when he did, Gilbert couldn’t wipe the small smile off his face. She was so cute and innocent, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and keep her there forever.  


And then she had let go of his hand and raced over to the coffee maker, a silence falling over the two of them. Gil blinked. Coffee. He wrinkled his nose for a moment, leaning against the small island and watching her. You had better feel special, little one. I’m drinking coffee for you.  


Gilbert absolutely hated coffee, no exceptions. But now… he wasn’t so sure. He was positive that if she asked, he would do anything. If Carmen asked for him to fetch her the moon, he would give her the stars. Besides, their heavenly glow would complement her smile a million times more. The German blinked. Since when was he into the romantic, sappy crap?  


Carmen set the coffee down in front of them both, looking up at him. The Spanish woman was only about five foot four inches, whereas Gilbert was a whopping six foot two inches. The height difference was staggering. But even with that, Gil felt himself lost in those eyes.  


He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, gazing at each other in a comfortable silence. It was only broken by the male’s phone going off. The two started at the sudden noise, blinking. Carmen flushed and looked away, tangling a few fingers in her curly hair. The albino checked his phone with a sigh. Well. “This has been lovely, Carmen, but I have to go.”  


Carmen nods, looking up at him and giving him a warm smile that sent tingles up his spine, making the German shiver.  


“Alright! Maybe we’ll see each other again?”  


Of course. If you asked me to, I would stay forever and never leave. Gil nods, returning her bright smile with his own trademark smirk. “Plan on it, kleiner engel.” Carmen blinked at the nickname. She didn’t speak German. Instead, she offers him her hand. He takes it, but instead of shaking it like she had intended, he winked down at her and kissed the back of it. The girl let out a squeak, her green eyes widening and filling with shock. Oh- The albino pulls away with a self-satisfied smirk, ruffling her hair just because he could and walk out with a casual air.  


Carmen blinks, looking down at her hand. Her curly hair hung in her face and she was sure she was as red as was humanly possible. “Well,” She says to herself, a small smile on her lips. This certainly wasn’t how she had planned her day going. Oh, well. With a small, giddy smile, the girl races to the door, peeking through the peephole to check for the handsome man. Carmen felt like a little girl who had seen a faerie, only to lose it again. As she had expected, Gil was gone. The girl pouts and gives a small, dismayed sigh, instead tripping off to shower and get ready for dance class.


	2. Of Second Meetings and First Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmen runs into Gilbert again, but this time it's her turn to fall for his charms
> 
> (I completely redid this chapter, just so you know.)

“So we meet again.”

Carmen let out a small shriek, slamming the door of her locker closed and whirling on the person who had sneak attacked her. She was at the dance studio she attended. The name was short and simple; literally 'The Academy of Dance'. Her dear friend from high school, Francis Bonnefoy, had established it after graduating a community college with a degree in business. So now the girl attended his academy under elite instructors and even taught a few of her own classes to help her save for her own education. The Spanish girl knew everyone in the ballet portion of the rather large studio.

But what she _didn’t_ know was that the man who had stopped by just that morning also frequented the studio. It took a moment for her to regain her composure. When she did, however, she gave the other nothing more than a suspicious glare before turning back to her locker and twisting the lock angrily.

“Hey, hey. No need for hurting the poor lock- Sorry for scaring you. Can you look at me? Bitte, Carmen?”

“Why should I?” She asks coolly, ignoring him and opening her locker to take out a new water bottle for her next round of classes.

_Because I’m in love with you…_

“I don’t know. Maybe because I think you’re pretty and I can’t get enough of your pretty face?”

_Slam._

The Spanish girl turned again, her green eyes full of fire. Gil blinked, unused to this side of the girl. He felt like taking a couple of steps back.

“What do you want from me?” She snaps. The German felt as if there were suddenly a wall between them. It definitely hadn’t been there before now. But Carmen wasn’t finished with him yet. “Sex? Money? A fling? Tell me.”

He put his hands up as if showing her he wasn’t armed, his eyes wide from her accusations. “Nothing- Nothing, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go out to dinner sometime.”

The girl studied him for a long minute, then sighed and brushed a bit of stray hair out of her significantly calmer green eyes. “No hookups?” She asked, her voice soft and her gaze earnest. The albino blinks. “Nein, if that’s what you want. We can do whatever you like- I promise.” He crosses his heart, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. After another tense moment, she nods, turning and starting to head to her next class. “I get out at seven thirty.” She says over her shoulder, a small smile on her own lips. “Don’t go anywhere if you want this to happen, Beilshmidt.”

Gil stood there a moment before the realization of her words hit him. He suddenly felt a tad breathless. “Oh- Oh, right! I won’t… I’ll be here!” With a soft smile, he watches her walk down the hall. She truly was a beauty, especially in nothing but tights and a leotard. With a sigh, he turns and heads to the waiting room, feeling lighthearted and happy.

***

Two hours later, Carmen emerged from the studio, sweaty and flushed, but secretly excited. She told herself to keep it tucked away. Because the last time she had been promised something, the promise had been ripped to shreds and stomped into the dust. Besides, Carmen barely knew Gilbert. Who was to say he wasn’t some serial killer who only killed green eyed, brown haired Hispanic girls? 

She laughed softly to herself as she pulled on her dress over her leotard, shaking her head. Now she was just being silly. Carmen looked over at the hallway that led to the waiting room, silently wondering if she had been stood up as she took her hair down from its confines. No. Left behind, more like. It wasn’t as if they had planned to meet up here. So it wasn’t exactly being stood up.

Whatever it was, she hoped Gilbert was still here. Biting her lip, sudden anxiety making her chest feel tight, Carmen slung her bag over her shoulder and slipped her shoes on before walking out to the waiting room.

“You look nervous, kleiner engel. Worried I left~?” Came a teasing voice from the corner.

_He hadn’t left her alone._

Carmen jumps, looking over at him and scowling. “No. Come on, let’s go. I haven’t got all night.”

“Of course not.” Gil gives her a jaunty little smile, getting to his feet and offering her his arm. Mildly surprised, the dancer took it and together they headed out to his car. “I hope you don’t mind,” He was saying as they stepped out into the cooling twilight air, the sun little more than a slit of red on the horizon. “But we’re going to walk to the diner; it’s only down the road a little ways. He took her bag from her, setting it in the backseat before tentatively taking her hand. Carmen surprised herself by letting him take it.

“Is that alright?” He asked, a little unnerved by her silence.

What he got, however, was a question of the girl’s own in reply. “Doesn’t it look like the sun slit his wrists in the bathtub and now he’s slowly bleeding himself to death?” Startled and slightly off put by her reply, Gil looked up at the horizon as well.

Carmen certainly didn’t expect him to laugh at her observation, tugging her along gently. “Indeed it does.”

***

Carmen Carriedo had met and dated a lot of boys in her life. Not one of them were into _her_ , they were into the sex that they expected after the date. She was, or had been, the go to girl of her high school for that kind of thing. She was used to it; after a while it had stopped _feeling_ like anything more than a regular Friday night. Which, she would often tell herself as she would offhandedly miss the consistency, was actually pretty sad.

The girl hadn’t been sure what she had gotten herself into when she had agreed to this date with Gilbert. Carmen was sort of glad that she had eliminated sex right off the bat. And by sort of, it meant that at least she wouldn’t fall into her old habits like a drug addict of alcoholic did after a bout of crappy rehab.

She caught herself looking up at him, studying him as they walked to his self-proclaimed fantastic diner. He was something out of storybooks, Gil was.

His eyes reminded her of rubies, like those you would find in a pirates treasure chest. His skin was pale, like the moonbeams themselves. The albino was tall, but not terribly so, and not the lanky kind of tall. She thought it was rather handsome; the way he loomed over everyone. Just barely giving the impression that people should be afraid of him. Fear me, his posture read. But his face- It was too boyish and handsome for him to be even remotely considered dangerous. His features were sharp, sure, with his prominent cheekbones. Gilbert was all angles. Strong jawline, high cheekbones. His hair was the color of wrought iron in the moonlight. But in the day, it was almost blonde. He was so imperfectly beautiful; It was as if faeries had woven this being into existence and set him on this earth just for her to find.

Carmen shook herself silently, blinking and looking down at the much more interesting and badly paved sidewalk. _Step on a crack, break your mother’s back…_ The old nursery rhyme echoed through her head, making her smile faintly as she stepped on one of the rather large ones. Good thing she didn’t have a mother.

“What are you thinking about, kleiner angel?”

The simple question snapped her out of her thoughts quite effectively. She jumped in surprise, her heartbeat quickening as she glanced up at him, exhaling. “Oh- Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I just can’t seem to get out of my head tonight…”

Gilbert smiled softly, opening the diner’s door for her. The pleasant scent of french fries and the homely chatter wafted from the run down place. Carmen glanced up at the sign, a small smile on her lips. _Auntie Rosie’s Diner_ the sign read. The girl turned her forest green gaze to the albino, smiling for the first time since they had talked that evening and thanking him in her native tongue. _”Gracias, señor…”_

***

The night was very pleasant. Far from what Carmen had ever experienced, that was for sure. Gil was full of smiles, it seemed. And they were all for her. He made sure to relay the silent message to her right off; with a wink and a playful glint in those pomegranate colored eyes. Of course, she had blushed and tried to ignore it by rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her water.

The service was terrific; the waiter they got was more than accommodating. His name was Geffrey and he was easily in his late sixties. Geffrey gave Gil a smile, giving him a _best of luck_ sort of look and gave Carmen a wink before taking their orders.

The two made small talk for a while before Gil leaned back in his seat, simply gazing at her, a small smile settling on his lips. After a moment, Carmen looked away, her face growing warm.

“Why are you staring at me?” She asked hotly, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Am I staring? My bad. I’m just wondering why God sent such a pretty angel down from His heavenly realms to live in this hell.” He responded, his eyes soft and open for her to read. _Please don’t be afraid of me,_ they said. _I promise I will never intentionally hurt you. Let me in._

But Carmen was no good at relationships, nor was she good at trusting anyone at all. So instead of replying, she sighed softly to herself and brushed her hair out of her eyes, looking back down.

A tad disheartened for having been turned down without even speaking at all, Gil sighed as well, frowning a bit. The silence lasted a moment or two before Geffrey brought their food and wished them luck on their relationship. He had walked away before either of them could correct him or make excuses. The pair made eye contact a little bit later, both smiling faintly and red from blushing.

 _Maybe I have a chance,_ Gil thought to himself as they began eating. All he had to do was find a way past her walls and into her heart. Simple enough, right? Besides, he had hoped in the beginning that she might have him as a boyfriend. Even in the drunken stupor he had been in when they met, some part of him in the back of his mind had hoped he could one day call her his.

 _Better watch out, Miss Carriedo._ Gil smiled at her over his water glass, tipping his head to the side slightly. _Gilbert Beilshmidt is headed your way. And I don’t give up easily._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry that the chapters aren't very long so far; I plan for them to be at least a bit longer in the near future. But you know how it is. Character building, plot set up, blah blah blah. Feedback is much appreciated! Thank you so much for sticking with me so far, and I hope I've captivated you to stick along.  
> This one's for you, Tigger.


	3. Of Second Dates and Hookups (Not Really)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay I really have no explanation for this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some TW in this chapter- such as; minor character death, self harm, depression, bullying. Please don't let my writing be the cause of your panic attacks-
> 
> WARNING: This fic is undergoing a few major changes. Nothing in the story will change, but I'm a perfectionist so please enjoy~

Unfortunately, when presented with Gil's desire for Carmen, Francis didn’t approve. At all.  


“Gilbert Beilshmidt, what part of no do you not understand?”  


“The part when you say it!”  


The blonde turned to him, obviously pissed off. The two had been practicing together in the studio for the upcoming recital. They were in charge of choreographing some of the older levels dances. Francis, as the director and owner of the whole studio, was completely with swamped with work as it was. Gilbert didn't belong to a studio; he liked to skip around and take a few drop-ins here and there. His real place to dance was on the streets, out in the open where the world could see him be himself. The only problem, of course, was that street dancing was a federal crime. So he stayed hidden, finding himself his own safe haven. But every now and again, Francis would need his help with something or other; classes, scheduling, choreography, etc.

Today, the stressed Frenchman had called him in need of assistance. As skilled as the blonde was, he didn't know hip-hop or break dancing very well. But, Gilbert did. He specialized in the study of ' _How- Can-I-Make-My-Body-Move-Like-It-Shoudn't'_.

Francis’ hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, some wisps hanging down in his face. Some stuck to his neck, plastered to his skin by sweat. They had been at it for a couple hours now and had only stopped when Gilbert had brought up his new love life.  


“Non, Gil. I said no. Leave her alone.” He snaps, turning back to his iPod to try and flip the song back. By this time, Gil was upset. He loved Carmen! Why was that so bad? Eyes flashing, he crossed his arms.  


“And if I say no?”  


Francis stiffens, turning back around. His cobalt blue eyes were dark and warning. “Gil,”  


“Why are you so against it?” The German snaps. “It isn’t fair to tell me to back off without a _reason_. Is she your girlfriend or something? Are you her dad? Who says you can rule over what she does?”  


“Beilshmidt, knock it off.” His voice was warning.  


But he didn’t want to. Gilbert was just getting started. He stalks over to the Frenchie, crossing his arms and standing a few feet away from him. “What’s your problem? You don’t control her. Or me, for that matter. So what’s your problem?”  


“My problem,” Francis says, turning. His eyes were dark and his voice dangerous. Even though Gil was a couple inches taller than him, he never once backed down. “Is that you won’t leave things _alone_ , Gilbert. You don’t need to know why. Just- just leave her alone. Got it?”  


“No! I don’t!”  


“Gilbert, when will you ever _shut up_ and do as you’re told?!”  


“Why won’t you tell me why you want me to leave her alone? Are you guys dating or something? Is she secretly your daughter? What, Francis?!”  


“I just don’t want her to get hurt again!”  


The words rang out into the otherwise empty dance studio. Francis was flushed slightly, his chest rising and falling as if he were trying to calm himself and it wasn’t working. Gil blinks, sobering a bit. “You- what?”  


The Frenchman sighs, glancing down and turning to fix his iPod again. “Promise me one thing?”  


“Yeah, sure.”  


“Don’t hurt her. She’s been hurt enough as it is.”  


Gil nods, and silence falls between the pair. After a moment, however, he couldn’t help speaking up.  


“Hey, Francey Pants?”  


“Oui, cher?”  


“Why are you so determined to keep her safe?”  


The blonde hesitates, then sighs, not turning to look at him when he spoke. “Because, Gil. I was one of the ones who hurt her.”  


“Oh…”  


Silence once again fell between them until Francis got his music to work. “Ah- There we go. Come, cheri, let’s take it from the top again.”

***  


Later that night, Carmen and Gilbert were hanging out at her place. Francis was just down the hall and a phone call away. He had made it very clear to both of them that if he heard anything out of the ordinary, he would be right over and he didn’t care what state they were in. To maintain some dignity, both had promised not to do anything over the ratings of PG-13. Which was kind of upsetting on Gil’s end. 

Carmen, on the other hand, didn’t seem too bothered by this. The two had been playing video games almost all night until the girl had gotten bored and grabbed her sewing kit. She had a knack for designing and right now she was set on creating this one costume for herself. It was a slip of sorts that hugged her ample chest and waist, then let out in ripples at her waist. The materiel was almost see-through. It was made of shimmery sort of tulle, dyed red and gold. The girl was working on sewing sequins at the waistline and hem. So far all she had really done was covered herself in glitter and poked her fingers until little pinpricks of blood dripped down her fingers. 

“ _Ouch_.” She hissed, stabbing herself for the umpteenth time that night. 

Gil smiled, pausing the game and looking over at her. “Careful, kleiner princess. We don’t want those pretty fingers falling off.”

Carmen looked up, her expression one of annoyance and exasperation. “Oh hush- Your flirty little comments don’t help the fact that I’m bleeding all over this stupid dress-“ She stabs the needle into the spool of thread and throws the dress aside with a growl of “I give up!”

“Now, now.” Gil sets the controller aside, getting up off the couch and walking over to her. The German kneels in front of her, taking her hands and kissing the blood on her fingertips away. She shivers, looking up at him in surprise and trying not to pull away. He winks, his red eyes glittering playfully. “Don’t give up yet. Maybe the needle doesn’t realize how lucky it is to be held by such a beautiful creature."

Carmen huffed, allowing her senses to win over and pulling her hands away, glaring halfheartedly up at him. "Or _maybe_ it just hates me. Ever think of that?"

"Well... maybe. But I wanted to be nice."

"I don't see why." She sighs, looking down and brushing the glitter off her legs. Gil rolls his eyes and takes her hands again, kissing the back of them to try and get her attention.

"Because, kleiner engel, I really like you."

Oh. _Oh_. Carmen felt her cheeks heat up and her eyes widen a touch. "I-I... Oh- I didn't... oh."  
Gil smiles, tilting his head and brushing a hand over her cheek. She had such a pretty blush. Soft and rosy. Unlike his, which was blotchy and incredibly red. Damn his albino genes. "Of course you didn't." He replies good-naturedly. 

The two stay like that for a while, his hand on her cheek, until Carmen realized what could happen next and pulled away, her chest once again tight. No. No, she couldn't handle this. "Thanks for hanging out with me tonight." She bites her lip and tried to ignore the nervous catch in her voice as she got to her feet and padded to the kitchen. She needed something to calm herself down with. 

_It's just me..._

No. _No_. She would not have a random anxiety attack while Gil was here. She liked him a lot and there was no need to dredge up the past.

After a few minutes of contemplation and breathing, Carmen came back out, tossing Gil a beer and popping the tab of her own Coke. Ever since she had found out he had a taste for beer, she had decided to at least keep one case in her apartment for nights like these. Of course, Francis would throw a fit if he knew. He hated it when she even mentioned drinking, even though he drank himself. He had a solid argument at least, so she couldn't stay mad at him long.

The two of them played video games for the rest of the night. It was rather uneventful until about midnight, when Carmen decided to lay her head in Gil's lap and try not to fall asleep. It was a bit of a bad idea, considering how warm men naturally were and how comfortable she was. 

Maybe she wouldn't have fallen asleep if he hadn't smiled softly down at her, pausing the game and sitting back, simply running his fingers through her coffee coloured hair. Maybe she wouldn't have fallen asleep if she had drank a beer like Gilbert. Or maybe even one of those energy drinks she kept in the fridge for just in case. Like one of those particularly long days in the studio, where practices ran from six to eight hours. 

But maybe she would've fallen asleep anyways. Gil didn't mind at all. He chuckles, leaning up over the back of the couch and grabbing the blanket that hung over it, spreading it over her. Carmen looked so peaceful when she was sleeping. _She really is a little angel..._ Gilbert thought to himself, brushing her dark hair out of her eyes as she breathed evenly, off somewhere in dreamland. He was definitely in love. Nobody could look at someone like her and _not_ fall in love, though. She was beautiful. She was perfect. He loved everything about her. From the frustrated looks she gave Francis behind his back when he was lecturing her, to the little conversations she would have with herself when she tied the ribbons on her pointe shoes, and to the goofy little things she would do in class when she got something absolutely right. He loved it all. Everything. Sure, her temper wasn't something to get in the way of, but that was alright. Everyone had their own little imperfections. Even with her imperfections, Gil loved Carmen just the way she was.

So maybe that was why he pulled her closer, shifting so that they were laying together on the couch. Close enough to be together, but far enough away so that she could move if she decided she didn't like it. Maybe that was the reason why he leaned down, kissing her forehead softly, barely enough pressure to count. Just a simple brush of lips on skin. It meant nothing, considering she was asleep and probably didn't even register it. Besides, this was all probably a one sided thing because she had pulled away earlier. Had they been about to kiss? He didn't know. Maybe. There seemed to be a lot of maybe's in this relationship.

Gil sighed, pulling the blanket over both of them and pulling her prone form closer, protecting her. Francis had made him promise, swear even, that he wouldn't hurt her. Gil had never intended to in the first place. _This is new,_ , he reminisced. The albino's relationships were... they weren't even relationships, if he was honest. His "relationships" were nothing more than one night flings, ending with a number on a pillow or an awkward breakfast. Gilbert hadn't felt this little spark rekindle in years. Hell, it wasn't since the senior year of high school since he had felt like this. But that hadn't ended well.

***

_Antonio and Gilbert had been madly in love since day one, when Toni had called Gil a prick for running into him "on accident", causing him to drop his books. Admittedly, Gil had been terrified when he found out he was in love. And with a _guy_ to boot- Not just any guy. Antonio Santiago. The gayest of all gays in the whole school. He was open about it, yes, but he never forced it on anyone. Whenever a new kid met him, their first question was always "Are you the gay kid?" Toni took it well. Toni took everything well. "Yes, I am." He would reply patiently. "What classes do you have? Maybe I can show you to them."_

_Antonio was the softest, gentlest creature Gilbert had ever met. He was the kid of boy who, when he got shoved into the lockers, would ask for their forgiveness instead of demanding their reasoning. When someone would call him a faggot, he would only look up at them, smile softly, and compliment them on their choice of clothing. Gil had never understood it. One day, when they were hanging out together because Gil needed help with his algebra two homework, he brought it up. The tanned boy had only looked up at him, smiling despite it all. "I don't mind," He said in his soft, sweet voice. "I know that they're probably hurting. So that's why I don't mind when they take it out on me."_

_It had felt good to let go. Falling in love, that was what everyone used to describe it. Falling, indeed. He fell hard and he fell fast. A simple glance from the kind boy would take his breath away. When he laughed, Gilbert's heart sped up. He felt so proud when_ he _was the source of that laughter. Their first kiss had been magic. They had met up for their weekly tutoring session. Gil was going on and on about the football team and how he didn't even want to be on it and he was only doing it because otherwise how was he going to get into a good college, when Toni had leaned forward, pressing his lips to Gils, effectively silencing him. The timid boy had gone red upon pulling away, ashamed and embarrassed. "I- I'm sorry-" He had choked, looking down at the book and flipping the page desperately. "I didn't... Sorry- I shouldn't have done that- And I won't ever do it again, I promise. I should go. I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry-" Right as Toni had started packing up his books, intent on fleeing, Gil turned his head and connected their lips again. He didn't know how long they had kissed for; it felt like the rest of the world had melted away. When they finally broke apart, however, it was Toni who spoke. "Why did you..?" He'd asked, wide eyed, still blushing and panting a bit. Gil had only smiled, gently swiping the pad of his thumb over Antonio's blush fondly. "You know, you should kiss me more often."_

_And so had begun Antonio and Gilbert's relationship. It was sweet and loving, filled with the youthful curiosity of those who hadn't yet been thrown out into the world. But, as was life, word spread fast through the school. Rumors grew, plaguing the two lovers relentlessly. Gilbert, as always, brushed it off. It didn't matter. He had Toni, and Toni had him, right? They had each other and everything was going to be alright. And everything was._

_Until it wasn't._

_It started with the little things. Antonio had become more quiet, whereas before, Gil would have to kiss him or threaten something absurd to get him to hush. He claimed he was only thinking; there was a project due in some class or another. That was always what he said. Then came the dark circles under his eyes. More excuses came along with it._

_Then one day, Toni showed up late to their usual meet-ups after school with a bloody nose and a black eye. Gil had gone from surprised to infuriated in a split second, walking over to him and tipping his chin up, demanding who had done it. "I ran into an open locker door..." Had been Antonio's excuse. Always making excuses. Gil had fussed and threatened and cooed over him for the good part of an hour, pulling him into his arms. "Alright," He'd compromised reluctantly. "But if it happens again, please tell me." Toni had only nodded, promising him in his soft-as-ash voice._

_But the next time it happened, he didn't. "I ran into a doorknob." He said lamely. This time they were at Gil's house. The German had seen something dark and definitely out of place on his boyfriends stomach. Upon multiple requests, Toni had shed his shirt, revealing multiple purple-ish and yellow bruises scattered along his torso. Gil had narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He respected Toni's wishes._

_Good turned into okay. Okay turned into fine, and fine turned into a slippery slope with no way back up. excuses turned to silence. The bruises were hidden. short sleeves turned to hoodies and long sleeved shirts, even though it was almost the beginning of May. Antonio was no longer the kind, loving, timid boy he had been months previous to his and Gil's relationship. The albino wasn't oblivious to this. Not at all. He just chose to ignore it._

_When Gilbert had found out, it broke him. His lovely, beautiful Antonio was sitting before him on his bed, sobbing and pleading for his forgiveness. Gil was silent as he traced his fingers over the scars on his arms, both fresh and old. It hurt. It hurt to think how long this had been going on, without any indication. His breath caught in his throat and he'd gently pulled his lover into his arms, smoothing down his hair and trying to calm him down. It took two hours and over two hundred songs, but he had done it. He had lured Toni into a deep, exhausted sleep so he could construct a plan._

_The look of open hurt and betrayal Antonio had given him a week following still haunted the German sometimes. "It's only temporary-" Gil had tried to convince him, catching his wrist to get him to stay. The poorly concealed flinch of pain had sent a dagger of guilt ripping into Gilbert's heart. "That's what everyone says," Toni had whispered, pulling his wrist away, a tear trickling down his cheek. "Fine. I get it. You don't want to be with me. I-I... I'll see you around." His voice had broken on the last sentence and Toni had fled, trying to hide his tears._

_Days turned into weeks, weeks into a month. Then Gil got_ The Call.

_Antonio had been crying, then, too._

"I'm so sorry," _He'd cried into the receiver. Gil had felt panicked all the sudden, without knowing exactly why. His palms felt cold and clammy, his breath quickening. He knew that voice. That was the voice of someone who had given up completely. Someone who wanted to go away and never come back._

_"Antonio," Gil'd whispered back. "Antonio, talk to me, leibe-"_

"I-I can't, Gil-" 

_"Can't what?_ Please, _Antonio, I need you to talk to me- Tell me what's wrong. Maybe we can fix it!" He was panicking now._

 _There was a blood freezing laugh from the other side. Wild. Dark. Hopeless._ "I don't want to talk. I don't want to talk about anything. You can't fix everything, Gil. You can't fix me. I love you, okay?"

_"Bitte, Antonio, _please_! Please let me fix thing for you! I love you, I love you so much- Ich leibe dich auch- Bitte!"_

_Silence. The line crackled, and a long sigh could be heard._ "Goodbye, Gilbert. I love you. You were wonderful to me. Have a happy life."

_The line went dead._

***

 _The funeral was one of the hardest days of Gilbert Beilshmidt's life. His whole family had gone. His mother, his father, even his little brother. Kids from school had shown up as well._ Look at what you did to my precious Antonio! _he wanted to scream into their faces. Maybe he would still be here if it wasn't for them! Maybe he could still be in his arms, laughing and smiling just like he used to. If they had shut up and left him alone, Toni could still be here. One more minute. That's all Gil wanted. One more minute to hold him. One more minute to tell him how beautiful he was, to kiss him and wipe away his tears. Sixty seconds. That was all he was asking. But the world was a cruel, cruel place. The only minute he was allowed was in front of the casket, staring down at the body that had once been his boyfriend. A living, breathing being. Death didn't even care enough to allow Toni to look close to what he had, it seemed. To be smiling, his green eyes bright. No. Instead, the once quiet boy looked like he was sleeping. Now silenced by the soft, tempting caress of Death. Once you gave into her, you were stuck. For Death was a jealous thing, and one that didn't let her muses go easily. So all Gil could do was lean over the crisp red velvet of the casket, pressing his lips to the cold flesh of his once-lover. "Ich leibe dich," He had whispered. Tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat, Gilbert stepped away from Antonio forever._

_His family hadn't even been able to attend the outside ceremony, where they lowered the deceased into the ground. Gilbert had broken down on his way to fetch a new box of tissues from the car. The boy didn't know how long he had sat there, sobbing into his arm, perched on the backseat with his legs dangled out of the open car door. A long time, he knew. One thing almost worse than funerals, he decided, was crying all alone. You felt so tiny in the world, all alone and silently crying out for someone, anyone to come and hold you or offer you a kind word. What he got, after who knows how long, was a little brother who had been sent after him after their mother had gotten worried he had wandered off. "Brother?" His six year old, blonde little brother Ludwig had whispered, setting his hand on his leg tentatively._

_Infuriating thing, tears were. They come at the most inopportune moments, then disappeared when you need them most. Gil stopped. Stopped crying. Stopped breathing. He took a trembling breath, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve and sniffing. "Hey," He said thickly, looking down at his little brother. Ludwig's bright blue eyes were wide with childish concern. The usually stoic little boy climbed into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. "It's okay to cry." He whispered in his big brother's ear. "Crying helps the monsters know that you need a timeout. That you're gonna step out for a minute, but when you come back, you'll be even stronger. I'm rooting for you."_

_Gil made a choked noise; half laughter and half tears. He pulled his little brother closer and they sat together, Gil crying softly and Ludwig holding onto him. Neither judging nor saying a word. Sometimes, the eldest thought, It was good to have a little brother. After a long while, tears dried and breathing evened out. Gilbert felt better. He squeezed his brother tighter, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "When did my little brother get smarter than his awesome big brother?" He rasped. No answer was given. None was needed._

***

 _Gilbert almost didn't go to college. Senior year had given him hell, why should college be any different? He had screaming matches with his father almost every night, ending up with no voice and having to go console his little brother that,_ no, he wasn't mad at Ludwig.

***

_In the end, he went. The first year had mostly been frat parties and hookups. But the second year was when he straightened himself out, putting his head back in the game. He really did owe it to his little brother; for believing in him and making him keep his mind straight. Ludwig had never let him give up, calling him every night to make sure his homework was done and that he was staying in classes. "Ja, mutti," Gil would tease as he lay on his bed, his chemistry lab notes, textbook, and notebook spread out over the bed and his lap. He would always balance his phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he scribbled something or other on his blank page, smiling to himself as his brother went on and on about exercise schedules and dietary plans._

_This was how it went, every year until Gil graduated college. Even when Ludwig graduated middle school and moved on to high school. Even when he himself got a boyfriend. Upon asking, Gil found out that him and Feliciano had met online. They planned to meet in the summer; both his mother and Gil and Ludwig's mother were both over the moon for their son's to meet. Gil was very happy for him, too. He could only hope that Ludwig's Feliciano didn't turn out like Antonio had._

_"Don't worry, brother." Ludwig had said softly the night he had told Gilbert of his boyfriend, sensing his unease and worry. "I won't let him get hurt."_

_That night, Gilbert hadn't slept at all. He stayed up the whole night, trying to distract himself with homework. When that failed, Gil stared at the ceiling. Not thinking. Not thinking lead to thinking. Thinking led to slipping back into the black hole he had been in before college. Luckily his roommate liked to spend the night with his girlfriend. When Gil broke down, nobody was there to help him. After an hour, Gilbert called his brother back. He was sobbing, unable to calm himself down or pull himself out of his head. It took all night. It took all night, but Ludwig got him to calm down, lulling him to sleep. It was the second worst night of Gil's life. He had almost given up all over again._

***

He was glad that he hadn't given up. He was happy that he'd had the pleasure of dating Antonio and the grief that came with his demise. _Because, maybe_ he mused as he tucked the girl closer to him, nuzzling her hair. _Without the struggle, I wouldn't have fallen in love all over again._

And oh, wasn't love just the prettiest thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry- This chapter isn't over but suddenly I'm having a bout of writers block.
> 
> Anyways- we get to learn a bit about Gil here! Wow this chapter was a tearjerker- I'm sitting here at nine o' clock sobbing like a baby. I think my mother is concerned. Reminder to carry around a box of tissues when you read fanfiction of any sort-
> 
> Antonio (Spain) is in here, too, but I gave him a different last name because I'm using Carriedo for Carmen.


	4. Of Morning Breath and Casual Saturdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much just some sweet, friendly weekend stuff. More character building, but I had a lot of fun writing it.

The next morning, which was a Saturday, Carmen woke up and panicked more than a little bit.

Fact one; Gilbert was sleeping _right up against her_.

Fact two; She was still in her clothes. That was a good sign…

Fact three; She was the first one awake. And Gil had a _really_ strong grip.

Well, one thing was for sure. They definitely hadn’t hooked up. The girl exhaled, barely registering that she was shaking from relief. After a few indecisive moments, Carmen relaxed back into his embrace. It wouldn’t be too bad to wait this out. Right? She switched between watching the clock and slipping in and out of dozing as the minutes ticked by. Honestly, Gilbert was like a personal heater- It wasn’t too hot to be unpleasant, but it _was_ rather warm.

Carmen had two weaknesses when it came to sleeping. New sheets, and being all bundled up when she slept to create the extra body heat. And right now, she was both bundled up in a comfortable, fresh smelling blanket and pressed up against a man who could literally be a dragon of those sort of things were real. Before she knew what was happening, Carmen had fallen back to sleep, curled up against Gilbert’s chest.

When Gil himself woke up, he found he was fortunate enough to catch the girl in a half sleep. Not quite fully gone, but asleep enough for her not to notice when he woke up. The German found a small smile on his lips as he gazed down at the girl who had pillowed herself against him. Her nose was tucked against his collarbone, as if the world outside was colder than the South Pole and she was determined to keep herself warm. Carmen’s slender, muscular legs had sneaked their way between his, just barely resting on his calves. They weren’t _directly_ pressed together, not exactly. Their bodies were just brushing. The only direct contact they had was where Carmen had tucked her head against his chest, and where their legs were gently tucked together.

The albino smiled, shifting slightly. Testing to see if she would wake up if he moved. She did.

The Spanish dancer mumbled something against his chest, likely in her native tongue, shifting. She had been snapped out of that beautiful, suspended state of sleep as easily as it was to lose your footing or drop something. The girl brought a hand up to her face, rubbing her sleepy green eyes open.

“Guten morgen, kleiner engel.” Came the soft greeting as she slowly adjusted to simply being awake.

And _oh,_ Gilbert would never trade the sight he got when she looked up at him for anything in this world.

Her green eyes were the perfect shade of green; a mixture of fresh clover and jungle shadows with a hint of crystals mingling here and there. Her hair was sleep-mussed, hanging in her face and waving here and there with barely any hint of frizziness. There were no dark circles or lines disrupting the perfection of the girl’s tan skin underneath her eyes, signs of a perfectly undeterred and peaceful sleep.

And then.

Oh, if she hadn’t already ensured that Gilbert would fall for her, she did so now.

Carmen smiled.

It wasn’t one of those _you surprised this out of me and I’m not sure if I like you for that_ sort of smiles. It wasn’t one of the forced ones she would give when she was being polite, just to get someone off her back. And it wasn’t one of the small smiles that would barely due any justice to this small bit of heaven that had, that _was_ being given to him right at that moment.

She smiled like a little orphan girl would as she was being given a whole new world, full of opportunities and new adventures. She smiled like someone would as they would when they would look upon a thing or a place or a person that brought fond memories flooding back and tears to their eyes. Her smile was full of warmth, like the summer sun on the windswept grass. It was soft, like a cloud dandelion fluff a faerie might make a bed out of. It was full of experience. It was gentle. It was kind. It was loving. But most of all...

It was _free_.

Gilbert found himself wanting to lean down and get a taste of that freedom for himself. What a wonderful thing it must be, must taste like. But he held back. Of course he did. Gil would save all the kisses he had wanted to give to her for another time. A time he knew would come in handy and mean the most.>/p>

It was hard to resist temptation, that was certain. But he did it.

***

The morning they shared together was filled with laughter and games, music and mock dancing. And, most importantly, the aroma of coffee and pancakes.

“Stop it!” Carmen laughed, swatting the playful albino away as he tried to drag her away from the stove and breakfast for the umpteenth time, trying to get her to dance. The lyrics to _Panic! At The Disco_ ’s ‘There’s A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered…’ echoed throughout the kitchen. Gil only grinned, yelling the words at the top of his lungs and still attempting to drag her away from the task at hand.

_When you're in black slacks with accentuating, off-white, pinstripes..._

“Gilbert, _please,_ don’t you want breakfast to be done in the near future?!”

“Nein! Come dance with me, kleiner princess!”

_Whoa, everything goes according to plan…_

Carmen turned, shutting the stove off and leaving a pancake half-cooked in the pan. “Fine. _Fine!_ You win! One dance- That’s _it_!”

Gilbert’s eyes brightened and he pulled her over to him, grinning and starting up with the lyrics again.

_I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it. Because you say so under your breath. You're reading lips "When did he get all confident?"_

“This should be your theme song…” The girl muttered to herself. Gil laughed, twirling her ‘round, and together they got lost in the music.

In no time, The German had dragged the Spaniard into yelling the lyrics to nothing in particular, grinning as they danced in the kitchen. In their own world, with nobody else who significantly mattered. For the next three minutes or so, it was them, any dance moves they could come up with (random jazz hands included to make the other laugh), and the music. When the song ended, both of them looked at each other. Red locked with green. Carmen grinned. They were both flushed, panting, sweaty, but they were happy. Until the door opened, and in came a seething Francis.

Carmen blinked, breaking their contact, and looking over at Francis.

“Good morning!” She said cheerfully, her eyes glittering. The Frenchman crosses his arms, his gaze asking one thing. _’What the hell is going on in here and why the hell wasn’t I invited?’_

“You’re just in time for breakfast! Gilbert, get another cup of coffee going because I don’t know what you do to it, but I swear to God that it’s like sex in my mouth. You’ll like it, Francey. Oh- And get another plate down and set the table while you’re at it!”

Francis and Gilbert both raised their eyebrows, exchanging a look. Then Francis smiled, tipping his head to the side and making a little ‘go on’ gesture. Gilbert blinked, then grinned. Obviously he was doing something right here, because Francis seemed to be warming up to the fact that Gilbert wanted a shot with the fiery brunette.

“Slave driver.” He grumbled, going to do as he was told as Francis set his keys down and went to sit down at the homely little dining table. He was obviously very comfortable here. Carmen rolled her eyes, smacking him in the side with the spatula as he passed, causing the albino to let out a girlish shriek and hop out of her way. The girl grinned, giving him a smug look and waving the spatula menacingly. “Goooooo- I want my coffee.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” He huffed, sulkily going to do the tasks he had been put in charge of.

In no time, breakfast was ready and they were all seated at the table, laughing and chatting amiably together. They all learned something new about each other in the short time they breakfasted together. Carmen learned that Gilbert absolutely _hated_ coffee, no exceptions. Gil learned that the girl liked to put a massive amount of peanut butter on her pancakes, coat them in chocolate syrup, and then sprinkle MNM’s on them. It was like a heart attack waiting to happen.

Now, Francis. Francis learned that maybe they were a bit better for each other than he had originally thought. It was almost fond, the way they squabbled over the fact that _No, Carmen, you don’t need any more chocolate anywhere near your plate. I promise. No, don’t throw MNM’s at me-_ It was endearing, the way Carmen pouted up at him, reaching over the table for it as he held it far out of her reach, chocolate syrup smeared over her bottom lip. They were so perfectly childish. But they were childish together. “Carmen, cher, you’ve got chocolate… Come here.” Francis smiled fondly, reaching over and dabbing the napkin over her bottom lip. She sat there a moment, then huffed indignantly. “I could’ve done it myself…” She grumbled, stabbing her fork into the mess off different toppings that was her breakfast. The blonde only rolled his eyes, spearing a bite with his own fork. “I’m quite sure.”

The rest of breakfast was spent on the topic of condiments.

“I mean, what is mustard even _meant_ for?” Carmen was going on, waving her fork in the air for emphasis. “It isn’t even that good- When you put too much of it on something, it burns like hell and it tastes like shit. It should be illegal or something.”

“Language…” Francis warned. Carmen shot him a _you don't control me_ look.

Gil was arguing on the poor mustard’s behalf, sticking up for the unfortunately strong sauce’s rights. “Well, ja, but it tastes really good on barbeque. You can’t have a proper burger without it. Otherwise it’s just missing that little extra… _umph_. Get what I mean?”

The girl gave him a flat look, obviously annoyed that he had a point and wouldn’t listen to her rant. Gil gave her a wink and a smile, going on.

“Besides, mustard seed is used in a lot of stuff. Without it, a lot of recipes would be incomplete and everything. So, really, where would our poor country be without the wonderful yellow substance that is mustard?”

“I hate you for winning.”

“I- What?”

Carmen stuck her tongue out at him, getting to her feet and collecting their dishes, going over to the sink to wash them.

“She’s just a sore loser.” Francis teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes and winking at Gilbert, who still looked offended. “I resent that comment- And I can hear you.” Carmen huffed, looking up and brandishing the dish-scrubby. Francis gave her a smug look. “You know you won’t throw that at me, Carmen Carriedo. Because I can always drop you ‘accidently on purpose’ during pas de deux rehearsal.”

The girl gave him a rude look and suggested he do something that wasn’t humanly possible and very unladylike. The two men cracked up, laughing at her as she turned huffily back to the task at hand.

After he had calmed down, Francis volunteered himself up to help her with the dishes. The two men both knew it was just to stroke her ego and help her get over the initial huffiness of being defeated twice in one run.

Gil hopped up on the counter, waiting for them to finish before suggesting that they should play a game. The two agreed, and Carmen suggested a plethora of games she owned. They all decided on _Uno_.

“Just because it’s in Spanish doesn’t mean you’re the queen of this game,” Gil teased, to which she only smirked and tossed her hair off her shoulder.

Carmen ended up beating both or their sorry asses; ten games out of fifteen. She sent a smug glance Gil’s way, and he held up his hands.

“Losers should have to do something…” The green eyed dancer decided after a few minutes, running a hand through her un-brushed hair and winced as her fingers snagged the tangles. Gil and Francis exchanged a look and a sigh before giving in.

“Fine,” Gil sighed.

“Alright,” Francis tucked his hair behind his ear. “What do you want, princess?”

She stuck her tongue out at the derogative nickname. “I’m thinking… Pizza. Pizza?”

“Pizza.” Gil agreed, and Francis nodded, getting up to get the phone so they could order in.

***

As Gil and Francis left that night, content to continue their version of the little party at Francis’ place, the albino felt content. He’d spent the night with the girl he had a _massive_ crush on, taking her out on a date beforehand. They’d hung out with Francis all day, made breakfast, ordered and devoured four pizza’s (they had given the leftovers to Carmen as a sort of peace offering to make up for their general boyishness. Ei; not letting her win every argument.), and all in all had a good time.

He found himself hoping it would be a constant thing.


	5. Of Drunken Afternoons and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning! TW in this chapter as well- (Parental death, abuse, and all the sad that goes around with that)

Gil had concocted the most genius plan in all of his life, he was eighty percent sure of it. If he wanted answers, he was going to have to get tricky about it. So, that was why he and Francis were back at the dance studio owner's place, chatting and drinking. Or, in Gil's case, _pretending_ to drink. It was definitely going to take a while, since Francis tended to drink very little and get only tipsy. But tonight Gilbert had decided to kick it up a notch, bringing a bottle of scotch and a couple of beers from the refrigerator. At the Frenchman's confused look, he shrugged and simply explained that he didn't want to be sober for the rest of the weekend.

After reluctantly agreeing, Francis and Gil both popped the tabs off the cheap, drugstore bought beer that honestly would take more than one to get well and truly drunk. That was only one downside to it, another being the nasty after-taste it left behind. Gil masked the fact that he wasn't drinking it by taking little sips here and there that made the other think he was very clearly inebriated after a few beers. Lucky for him, Gilbert's German genes helped him both pretend to be drunk and hold his liquor quite well. He had only been beaten in a drinking contest once, and he had lost to his little brother.

Once the albino was sure that Francis was drunk enough, he leaned back and started asking questions, adding a slur to his voice just in case.

"Francey..." He said, his voice a half whine.

"Oui, cher?" He drawled, draping himself on the sleek black leather that was the couch, the furniture groaning with his weight.

"Can I ask a question?"

"You already are, so I don't see why not." He sighs, rubbing his face and taking another rather large swig of the crappy beer. Francis made a face, setting the empty can aside and instead reaching for the Scotch.

"Why does Carmen hate me?"

Francis blinked, looking over at him and squinting his eyes through the haze of liquor that was obviously fogging his mind. Then he huffed, waving the hand that held the liquor, causing the amber colored liquid to slosh around and out of the bottle, dribbling onto and staining the pristine white carpet. "No, no, ami, you have it all wrong. She doesn't hate you."

_Bingo._

"Then why doesn't she trust me?" Gilbert huffed, looking over at him and pretending to be annoyed.

Francis stares at him uncertainly a moment before obviously deciding that he was too drunk to care and taking another drink of the Scotch. "She doesn't trust anyone, Gil. So I'm not surprised she doesn't trust you."

Gil frowned, taking a sip of his beer. "Ja, but why doesn't she trust anyone?"

"Do you want the real story or the one that will make you feel better?"

Gilbert pretended to think about this. Of _course_ he wanted to know- It was just a matter of getting Francis to talk. He nodded, leaning back in his chair and getting ready for a story.

He wasn't disappointed.

"When I was a child, I moved to Spain and met a wonderful little girl who lived just across the way. She had wild green eyes, equally as untamable brown hair, and was always up to her neck in dirt of some sort and scratched up. Her mother was her mirror image, with the same bright eyes, wild hair, and free spirit. I learned after a while that the little girl's name was Carmen Cortez, and we were best friends on the spot.

"Carmen's mother had no husband, and she didn't have any recollection of her father. But she never minded. The two of us were best friends all throughout our elementary school and middle school lives." Francis pauses to take a drink and sigh softly, shaking his head a bit drunkenly. "But then her mom met someone. Their relationship was swift and deep, the courtship lasting only six months before he proposed. Carmen, naturally, was furious. She hated him on the spot, never once giving him a chance to try and work himself into his life.

"But he was a hard man, a cruel man, and never once cared about her. He cats her aside, trying to isolate her from her mother. It even took him a long to time to agree to officially adopt her, making her go from Cortez to Carriedo. Carmen _hated_ her stepfather, and she had very good reason to.

"Then one day, Carmen found out that her mother was pregnant with twins." Francis frowns, downing another shot or two of the scotch and sighing. "Her whole attitude changed. She went from the happy-go-lucky girl everyone knew to a moody, silent new creature. Carmen didn't talk to me much anymore, and we ended up losing real contact until the second year of high school.

"When we did finally meet up again, I learned that she had lost her mother due to childbirth. On the bright side, she had two little brothers who adored her, toddlers though they were. But her attitude toward her father had worsened."

The Frenchman went quiet, swirling the liquid in his bottle slowly and staring off into space. Gil wanted to urge him on, but he needed to remain... 'drunk' and sentimental for the dancers' sake. "You okay, buddy? Let me get you another drink, you look kind of sad." He got up from his seat, stumbling to the fridge and grabbing another cheap beer and tossing it to Francis. His friend nodded appreciatively and popped the tab, drinking half of it before setting it down and launching back into his tale.

"Carmen had been getting... hit. By her father. She didn't tell me this until the third time we were hanging out. It was at my place, and we were laying on the living room floor playing video games like old times. I didn't notice until I reached over to poke her side after beating her for the third time, and she made the most inhuman yelping noise and flinched away from me.

"At first I thought she was playing; she had never reacted that way before, plus she's really ticklish." The Frenchie sighs, passing a hand over his face and almost shaking with nostalgia and emotion. "But then I saw it. Lucky thing she was comfortable enough with me to wear a white shirt."

"The uh... the bruise was rather big. It stretched around her side, covering her rib-cage and a bit of her back. I was furious. I wanted to march over to her house and confront her dad right away; but she stopped me. I'd never seen her cry so hard in all of our friendship. I even had to hold her on the couch to calm her down, rocking her like a baby until she cried herself to sleep.

"But that was only the beginning. On Carmen's seventeenth birthday, her father announced that he had promised her hand in marriage to the son of a man he worked with. Nasty boy, he was. Skinny, pale little thing, with no imagination and a temper to rival her father's. That was the second time she had come to me, crying like a baby and inconsolable.

"Instead of responding the way she was expected to, she... er..." Francis rolled over onto the other side of the couch, rubbing his eyes with a shaky sigh. "Carmen started sleeping around. A _lot_. She made it obvious, wearing clothes that would have put her poor mother to shame and even going so far as bringing boys home. This enraged her stepfather even further. The abuse increased. Carmen would come to school sporting black eyes or concussions that she blamed on some accident or another. But I knew. I always knew.

"Soon we gradutated high school, and I made plans to move to America for school. The night before she turned eighteen, she ran away from home. I didn't hear from her until two years later, when she showed up on my doorstep for the third time since I had known her, crying and all alone. So I took her in."

Francis sat back, piss-drunk and more than slightly emotional. "Does that answer your question, ami?" He asks tiredly, looking over at the shocked German. Gilbert nods, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. "Wow." He says softly. "No wonder."

This, of course, was a very big understatement. Inside he was angry, horrified, and more than a little pitying. He was furious at the treatment she had been doled out by a man she wasn't even related to by blood. He was horrified at her resolve to simply deal with it. But mostly, Gilbert was filled with pity for the girl who could have turned out to be the sweetest, most trusting girl he and anyone could ever meet. But instead, Carmen had been reduced to a lonely, mistrusting, and painfully careful girl. Gilbert had to fight the urge to get up from the love seat he had been occupying for the last hour or so to cross the hall, enter the girl's apartment, and pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be alright.

"Francis?" He asked softly, looking up.

But the Frenchman was already passed out drunkenly on the couch, leaving Gilbert to think things over.

And think he did.


	6. Of Minor Setbacks and Small Seperations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Francis is out of the picture for a short while, many things start to fall apart and go wrong slowly but surely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another filler-ish chapter, but I like it. Kinda feelsy. But that's most of what I write, so I'm not really sorry.

_"What do you_ mean _you're going to France?!-"_

Francis winced, holding the phone away from his ear. It was Monday morning, the day after Gilbert had strategically gotten the Frenchman totally wasted. He was more than a little hungover and his head was pounding. Carmen's screeching wasn't helping any, either.

"I'm sorry, cher, but I _have_ to. My aunt just died and my mother needs me. You understand, oui?" He explained, leaning against the counter and rubbing his temples. Gilbert was still passed out on the love seat.

 _"Yeah, I guess..."_ The girl muttered sullenly from the other side of the line.

Francis breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling the edges of his headache start to ebb. "Merci, mon préféré petit Espagnol... Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go dole out some revenge on your boyfriend."

_"Gilbert isn't my boyfriend!"_

"Sure, sure. He may as well be. Anyways. I have a flight to pack for. I'll talk to you later, Carmen. Stay safe and take care of the studio for me, alright? I'm counting on you. Oh, and don't let Alfred drink all the coffee in the staff lounge."

_"Yes, mom. Now go pack. And take some pain meds, you sound hungover." ___

He had to smile. The two exchanged their goodbyes and the Frenchmen hung up, setting the phone on the counter and running a hand through his sleep-tangled blonde hair. He felt more relaxed than when he had been a few hours ago. Francis had woken up to the phone ringing, and, upon answering, had to spend a couple hours reassuring and calming his mother in careful French. He had spent the rest of the morning making preparations to fly to France that morning. The task consisted of calling and informing all of his staff, including Carmen, and trying to make it to the airport on time.

Less than an hour later, the doorbell rang, causing Gilbert to scare awake. Chuckling, the Frenchie crossed over from nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen and to the door. Carmen was standing there when he opened, her keys jangling around her fingers. "One, you look like shit." She said right off the bat, smiling smugly. "And two, I'm driving you to the airport."

Francis could only stare at her, surprised. Gil sat up, rubbing his eyes and muttering to himself. He blinked, focusing his sleepy eyes on the girl in the doorway. "Who's going to an airport?" He asks, his voice thick with sleep. Carmen grins and pushes past Francis. Even in sweats and an older, ragged shirt that had once probably belonged to Francis, her hair arranged in a carelessly messy bun, the girl was still striking. She sent a wink the albino's way before dragging Francis into the kitchen.

"Coffee, drink it. Now. Gil, you're going to drink it too, even if I have to sit on you and force it down your throat. And don't think I won't do it!"

Gil swallows hard. _Good God, yes please._

Francis gave him a sharp look, as if reading his mind, his gaze challenging him to even _think_ about turning down her orders.

He nods quickly, his eyes widening. Gilbert really didn't want to see what Francis was capable of, especially when it came to Carmen. "Ja, okay." He says, wincing at how nervous his voice sounded. Luckily, the girl was too busy making coffee for everyone to notice. Francis noticed. Gil wanted to smack the smug grin off his face.

A few moments later, the short Spaniard pushed Francis out of the kitchen. "For goodness' sake, man, do I have to _spell it out_ for you? Go pack! We leave in an hour." She huffs, shoving him toward his room.

"You're so bossy- I'm going, I'm going!" He grumbles, rubbing his back and walking to his bedroom. Carmen rolled her green eyes, tucking a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes before walking over and handing Gil a mug. She sat next to him on the floor, smiling faintly. "I see you're pretty hungover, too."

Gil studies her, the things he had been told resurfacing in his mind and giving him a slightly different perspective. He could see the dark circles under her eyes more clearly, the worn and broken light in her eyes she his so well. She was so strong, but so fragile. One little thing could make her snap, the carefully crafted persona she was hiding behind shattering and finally showing the scared, unstable little girl she truly was.

He could've turned away from her, ignoring her and getting upset over her not laying out her life story in front of him. He could've been a jealous, selfish bastard who envied her and Francis' relationship. He could've even started to yell at her. But he didn't. Instead, Gilbert smiled down at her, nodding sheepishly and finding he was _that much more_ in love with her for not telling him.

"Yeah," He admitted, taking a sip of the coffee without even really noticing what he was doing. "I am."

***

The car ride to the airport had been filled with laughter and jokes. But obviously, both Francis and Carmen were trying to hold it together. Carmen especially. She would get distracted, staring ahead silently as she drove and then zoning back into the conversation at random. It was kind of distressing.

When they got there, Francis dragged them both inside, claiming he didn't want to check out alone and that car goodbyes were over-rated anyways. What he really meant was more for the girl's sake than anything.

Meaning that, before he started any of the process, he pulled Carmen into his arms. She was crying as she clung to him, begging him not to go in quiet and broken Spanish. He shushed her gently, pulling her hair down so he could run a hand through it. They were both thinking of a time not too long ago where they had done this exact thing, although their roles had been reversed. Carmen had been leaving, and neither of them had known if they'd ever see each other again. Now it was Francis' turn to leave, but he would only be absent a little over a week.

Gil watched in awed silence as, slowly, Francis managed to get her to stop crying with simple words and gestures. Finally, they pulled back, Carmen rubbing her eyes and sniffing. Francis returned her hairband, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh and swat at his arm. "Stop it-" She laughed, slipping the band around her wrist. Francis smiles, tipping her chin up and kissing her forehead before ruffling her hair. "Be good, mi corazon." He says, winking.

"Practice your Spanish." She huffs, obviously trying not to cry again. "Your accent is terrible."

The Frenchman only smiles, waving and saying one last goodbye before truly departing. Carmen watched him go, swaying a bit, as if someone had taken a knife and stabbed her directly in the heart. Her expression was lost; she was biting her lip and her eyes were misted over with tears once again.

Gil walked over, pulling her against his chest from behind and setting his chin on top of her head. She jumped, glancing up, but relaxed almost as soon as she remembered who it was.

"You'll be okay." He murmured into her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She turned in his embrace, exhaling shakily, and buried her face in his chest. "I'm alright." She whispers.

He didn't believe her. But that was alright, he didn't have to. Gil offers her a small smile, his crimson colored eyes soft. "Want to go home?"

She nods, sliding out of his embrace and instead taking his hand. Together they walked to the car, hand in hand and silent except for the sound of their shoes scuffing the pavement as they walked. Gilbert took the keys from her, and she made no move to protest or take them back.

Somewhere along the way home, Carmen slipped into an uneasy, restless sleep. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder, the sun falling into her face just enough to frame it perfectly. Her dark eyelashes dusted her cheeks, her pink lips parted ever so slightly as she slept.

The albino found himself smiling softly as he studied her as the car idled at a stoplight. He reached over to adjust her seatbelt, fixing it so it didn't cut into her neck at all. His fingers brushed against her cheek as he did so, the contrast startling. She was so lovely, so perfect. Gilbert looks up at the light, which was still red, before leaning over and kissing her cheek, whispering the impossible against her skin.

_"I love you..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Merci , mon préféré petit Espagnol_ \- Thank you, my favorite little Spaniard


	7. Of Thinking and Errands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another filler-ish chapter. Sorry guys- But stuff is coming, I promise!   
> Enjoy!

Somewhere on the ride home, Carmen woke up from her little cat nap. She convinced Gil to take her to the studio, but he was still reluctant to do so.

"Okay, but _only_ if you let me bring you lunch and take you home." He agreed, glancing over at the Spanish dancer with a reluctant sigh. She runs a hand through her hair, rubbing her face and nodding after a moment. All the fight had gone out of her, and it was only 10:47 am. He frowns, more to himself than anything, and turns into the parking lot of the studio.

"Pick me up at one, alright?" She hummed, slinging her purse over her shoulder and brushing her unruly hair out of her eyes. Gilbert nodded, giving her a small, reassuring smile before leaning over and opening the door for her. All he got in response was a tired, annoyed look that said _thanks, but I still have arms and I could've done that by myself._ He winks, then takes her hand and squeezes it gently. _Everything is going to be alright. You can do this._

"Thanks," Carmen slides her hand out of his, smiling faintly before hauling herself out of the car and making her way to the building. Gil watched as she went inside, the wind sweeping her hair away from her face and making her look smaller than she really was. It also didn't help that she seemed to be _trying_ to make herself smaller, as if the world was a place she didn't want to be without her best friend.

A wave of pity and the overwhelming urge to call her back over to the car and simply drive her back home hit the German. He sighed softly to himself, shaking his head before putting the car in gear and pulling away from the curb. Right. He needed to think. The drunken stupor he had been in the previous night hadn't helped the fact that he needed to puzzle over a few things. His alcohol-muddled mind kept wandering, and finally he had given in and fell asleep.

The German drove around a little bit until finally stopping at a park. Gilbert sat in his car for a little while, drumming his fingers on his thigh and staring at the blue sky for a long while. When he looked back up at the clock on the dashboard, he found only ten minutes had passed. Might as well take a walk.

The day was nice, brisk for early winter. There was little wind, only small whispers that stirred one's hair and tickled children's faces. The sky was clear and bright, not a cloud to mar it's pristine surface. The park was empty as well, with only the sound of a passing car or a bird song to break the beautiful, peaceful silence. A perfect place to sit and do nothing but think.

***

"How are you holding up, love?"

Carmen looked up from the computer at the front desk, where she had been typing up a small list of small errands she needed to complete after she left here. Hopefully she could convince Gilbert to take her. The list consisted of little things; cleaner for the bathroom, tape for the studio floors, cases of water and snacks for the concessions table. It was close to being done.

But, if it were not for a green eyed, blonde haired Brit that had interrupted her task, it might have been done by now. Not that she particularly minded. "Hey, Arthur. I'm alright. What about you?"

Arthur Kirkland was a British man with a lot of pride and an affinity for tea and certain blonde haired, blue eyed American. He also happened to be a close friend of Francis'. If their relationship could even be called a friendship. It was a sort of love-hate relationship that altered depending on something as simple as weather or complex as a mood. Luckily, Carmen got along with both Arthur and Francis, so she was sort of their middle ground. One or the other would come to her in a particularly bad week, ranting for hours on end or simply sitting with her and playing with her hair as a stress method. Francis was very fond of the latter.

Even though Arthur was a bit lacking in affection, Carmen was still fond of him and looked up to him in a way. He was sensible, stern, stubborn, and was the most fun drunk person anyone could be around. Arthur was also a very caring person under the strict front he put up. He looked after the girl and most of the other dancers when Francis or his boyfriend, Alfred, who was also a dance instructor at the studio, could not.

"I'm fine, dear. Don't worry about me." The Briton gave her a smile, setting a mug of coffee in front of her. "I'm guessing you didn't have your usual daily coffee run this morning. You look a bit dead around the eyes."

Carmen smiled, picking up the mug and taking a sip. He was right. She hadn't even thought of coffee that morning. "Thanks."

The two lapsed into a small, companionable silence before it was shattered by a loud, outspoken, bespectacled blonde. "Artiiiiie I need your help I bent my glasses again!"

"Insufferable git." Arthur grumbled, rolling his eyes and raising his voice. "Come here, then. And don't run into a wall this time, please."

The girl stifled a laugh as the blonde stumbled into the room, holding his bent glasses with a very disgruntled expression. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "And what _exactly _did you do this time, Alfred?"__

Alfred looked up, smiling brightly to try and hide his puppy-like shame as he held out his glasses to the Brit for repairs. Arthur took them, rolling his eyes and glancing down to inspect the damage. "I was trying to a headstand in the studio and I kinda feel over and landed on my face but you can fix them right?" He gave his lover a hopeful, almost apologetic look, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back on his heels like an expectant four year old.

"Or you could just get contacts and spare me the trouble..." Arthur sighed, fixing the bent glasses before handing them back to the American. "Here, you bloody annoying twat."

"Yeah, but you love me." He teased, sliding the glasses back onto his nose and blinking as everything came back into focus. Then he frowned. "Or it could just be the glasses."

"You've caught me," Arthur said dryly, taking a sip of his tea. "It's definitely the glasses."

Both Carmen and Arthur exchanged an amused look before the modern-slash-contemporary teacher realized they had company and looked down. "Oh, hey there, little buddy. What's up? You look sad. Don't be sad." He ruffled her hair, making a face and winking at the girl. Carmen huffed, swatting his hand away and turning back to her work. "I'm not sad- Don't wink at me you're taken."

Before anyone could reply to that, the door opened and Gil walked in. "Sorry I'm late." He apologized, running a hand through his hair. Carmen blinked, looking down at the computer screen to where the digital clock was. Oh. It was ten after one. "I didn't even notice it was one," She admitted, typing the last few things onto her list and pressing print. Then she looked up at Arthur. "Do you have anything else you need me to do or is this it?"

"Let's see... you cleaned the bathrooms and all the mirrors... you don't teach today, and you're doing errands for me... No, I think that's it. You can go home; I can do all the taxes and fun stuff like that." He smiled, handing her the paper the printer had just spat out at him. "Get some rest, love. I don't want you back in here tomorrow until your first class, got it?"

"You can't-"

"I can, and I did. Now go." He says, his voice stern.

Carmen huffed, smacking him with the piece of paper in her hand before walking over to Gil. "Fine, _mother_. C'mon, Gil, let's go to lunch. I have shopping to do though so I need you to take me, okay? No arguing."

The German grinned, saluting playfully before taking her hand in his. "Yes, ma'am."

"You take care of her." Arthur huffs. "Both Francis and I will have that pretty head of yours. Got it?"

Speechless, Gil nodded. It seemed his muse had a platoon of men who were more than willing to snap his neck if they tread on her toes.

Alfred, however, was having none of this. "Why don't you call my face pretty?" He whined, hanging off of the Brit and leaning all his weight onto him, causing him to stumble. Arthur only sighed, clearly used to this, and ran a hand through his blonde's hair. "I _do_ call your face pretty. You just don't hear me."

Alfred blinked, looking down at him, before making a pleased noise and burying his face in his neck. Gil chuckled, squeezing Carmen's hand gently and tugging on it. "Well, come on, princess, let's go to lunch."

"Mmkay." She nods, then took the job of dragging Gilbert out to the car and complaining loudly about how he was late and how hungry she was and how this better be fixed right now. The German stifled a laugh, allowing himself to be dragged out to his car. Arthur watched the two fondly before looking up at his own problem and pushing him off him and onto the floor. "Git."

***

Carmen and Gilbert spent the rest of the day together. They went back to the cute little hole-in-the-wall diner from the previous week, eating a leisurely lunch together before _somehow_ the girl convinced Gil to take her to the store so they could go shopping. Besides, she had a few things she needed to pick up for herself, and she hated going to the store alone.

"How long is this going to take?" Gilbert whined, dragging his feet as Carmen attempted to pull him into the superstore. She huffed, pulling harder and making him stumble forward a bit before handing him the list and grabbing a cart. "It won't take _that_ long. Just hush and help me, would you?"

He let out another inaudible groan before looking down at her and grinning. She paused, glancing up at him. Oh no.

With a laugh, Gilbert picked Carmen up and unceremoniously dropped her into the basket of the cart. "There! Now I can cart you around and you can't get mad at me for going slow!" The girl huffed, crossing her arms and glowering up at him.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." He taps her nose. "Okay, kleiner engel, read me what we need and let's get this over before I die of hunger."

"You just ate!" She huffs, rolling her eyes.

"High metabolism. Okay, come oooon! I want to get this over with I _hate_ shopping. Let's go."

In the end, It was Carmen who had to drag Gil out of the store.


	8. Of Anxiety and Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! This is where the story picks up a bit! Sorry for the wait, you guys... I hope you like it! Happy reading!

The rest of Carmen's Sunday afternoon went without a hitch. Her and Gilbert went back to her apartment and put things away, smiling and laughing like everything was perfectly normal. In a way, it felt like it was. They weren't dating and she was fine with that. The two spent a comfortable evening together, talking and making dinner together. Gil dragged her over to the couch, flipping on some terrible television show just so they could criticize it while they ate.

It was almost too familiar, the way they could slot themselves together, hipbone to hipbone, eating and joking with one another. The girl found herself questioning whether she liked it, whether it would be wise to pull away and block him out the way she had done to everyone else. But Carmen also knew he would only pull her closer. So that idea was out of the question.

Carmen almost didn't let him leave, instead lingering at the door, leaning against the frame and clinging to his fingers. Gil had smiled down at her, his red eyes soft.

"I have to go, kleiner engel..."

She nodded, but kept her hold on his hand. This earned a chuckle from the albino. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, then gently turned his hand over and kissed the back of her hand. The girl shivered, catching her bottom lip with her teeth and gazing up at him.

"I'm only a text away. Alright? If you need anything, I'm right here." Gil murmurs, squeezing her fingers gently and dropping her hand. "Have a good night. I'll see you soon."

Carmen watched as he walked down the hall, watched as he turned the corner, watched until she was staring into space with a small frown upon her pretty features. She took a shallow breath, closing the door with a soft _click_. She leaned against the door, sliding to the floor and staring into nothingness once again. There was nothing but the sound of the clock.

_Tick, tock._

Everything was so quiet without Gil or Francis...

_Tick, tock._

She should probably get up and clean the kitchen...

_Tick, tock..._

The chime of the clock striking eight o'clock was the last thing she heard before her eyelids slid shut and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

The next day was disaster from start to finish.

Carmen woke up, disoriented and sore, to realize that she had fallen asleep leaning against the door. Her body hurt. Her tailbone, back, legs, arms, sides, everything. Everything hurt. Including her head. When she glanced up at the clock, nothing registered for a while. After squinting at it a moment, her eyes widened. She was late! Late, late, late, late- She had never been late to work in her life! Arthur was going to _kill_ her!

The girl scrambled to her feet, ducking into the bathroom to switch on the shower before racing into her room to grab a new change of clothes. She stripped in the bathroom and hopped into the shower, hissing as the ice cold water rained down onto her. Whatever- She didn't have time to wait for it to heat up. Carmen showered in record time, switching off the slowly heating stream and stepping out onto the cold tiles. Her hair was still dripping when she tied it up, on her way out the door. No time for breakfast, either.

Just as her luck would have it, traffic was a nightmare. She slammed her hands onto the wheel, cussing softly under her breath and nearly on the verge of tears. But she didn't have time to cry, either. No time for anything. When she finally, _finally _pulled into the parking lot of the studio, she felt sick with anxiety and relief. Arthur was going to be pissed. All because she was an idiot and had fallen asleep against the door of her apartment.__

Carmen's distress must have showed on her face, for when she walked through the doors, Arthur was more concerned than annoyed.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I fell asleep before setting my alarm clock and then I woke up late and traffic was horrific, I promise it won't happen again-"

The Brit held up a hand, silencing her apologetic rant with a small smile. "Hush, love. I'm not upset. You look tired; I'm not surprised you overslept. And your hair is still wet. Go into the breakroom and clean yourself up, get a coffee, and eat. Alright? You aren't allowed to start your work until you at least _feel_ human. Got it? Now shoo."

The girl nodded, speechless, and trudged back to the breakroom that also doubled as a sort of lounge for the staff. It was furnished nicely; with leather couches that had been worn to perfection, a massive fridge, a few vending machines and a full kitchen set. There was a faculty bathroom and a few dressing rooms, along with a janitorial closet. The walls were covered in a sleek white paint. Not that you could see it. Pictures, letters, papers, and more that had been gifted to all of the teachers or staff. It was a cozy place. A nice place to seek refuge in.

Carmen turned to coffee machine on, pulled her hair down, and grabbed a spare custom made shirt from the storage cabinet. Already she felt a little bit better. SHe walked over and plugged her phone in; it hadn't been charged at all the previous night. She stripped herself of the wet clothing, replacing the shirt. The pleasant and strong scent of coffee filled the breakroom, instantly making the Spanish dancer feel ten times more alert. Maybe today wouldn't turn out so bad after all.

***

Boy, was she wrong. Everything had gone downhill after that.

Carmen was sitting in the middle of her favorite studio, staring. Simply staring. At what, she didn't know. The girl'd had at least two anxiety attacks in the last hour. Now her mind was blank, her chest tight, and she couldn't focus on anything long enough to properly think. Arthur was worried. He had tried to talk to her multiple times, to no avail. He had been there when she had thrown her phone across the room and collapsed to the floor, hyperventilating and clutching at her head. She wouldn't talk. Not to him, not to Alfred, not to anyone. So he had called the one person he knew could get through to her.

"Carmen?"

No answer. She stared straight ahead, her gaze unfocused, her knees pulled to her chest, and her hands tangled in her hair.

"Carmen..." Gilbert crouched in front of her, his crimson eyes dark with worry. "Leibe, talk to me. I need you to talk to me.

She said nothing, instead taking a catching breath and closing her eyes. Gil sat down, brushing his fingers over her wrists, making her jump. "Shh, kleiner one... I've got you.II won't hurt you, I promise. Come here, Carmen... Let me help..."

It took a long while and a lot of talking mostly to himself before Gilbert finally got through to her enough so that she would let him even touch her. Almost an hour later, he had gotten her in his lap, murmuring against her temple and cradling her in his arms. Never had he seen the girl so shattered, so fragile. Carmen was a spitfire. Carmen was strong. Carmen kept herself together. But now, as he looked down at the shaking, unresponsive girl in his arms, he felt the words Francis had told him in his drunken stupor come back. Everything came back.

Gilbert gathered the bundle into his arms, shushing her softly and carrying her past the worried Brit. He walked out to his car and set her inside, buckling her up and pulling away momentarily to get into the drivers side of the car. In the ten minutes it took to get from the studio to his little apartment, he got no reply from her. None at all. In fact, he didn't get a reply until he had carried her into his apartment. His dog, a large black German Shepard named Maximus, practically tackled them, making her let out a small shriek.

"Easy, easy." He set her down on her feet, glancing down at the dog and uttering a sharp command in German. The dog sat obediently. "That's Max," He explained, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "He won't hurt you."

Carmen nods, reaching down to tentatively brush her hand over his head. Max woofed softly, licking her hand. The girl giggled softly, her grip tightening a touch on the German's fingers. After a moment, Gil told Max to go lay down, and he took the girl over to the couch.

While he did so, Carmen had her share of looking around. It was a nice little place, but obviously the home of the a single guy. Bags of chips, open containers, and beer bottles cluttered the counter. Piles of laundry, dirty or clean nobody knew, lay about in piles. The house was clean, but not perfectly clean. It was nice. It as a place someone could easily calm home.

"Carmen?" She looked up. She was on Gil's lap, leaning against his shoulder. When had that happened? Oh well...

Gil smiles, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Want to talk about what happened today? Why you... freaked out and threw your phone across the room?"

Instantly Carmen was shaking her head and trying to pull away, pushing at his chest with a wild expression and even wilder eyes. No, no, _no_. She wasn't going to tell him anything. No thank you. No thank you please don't make me-

"Hey, hey," He pulled her back, running a hand up and down her arm. "Shh... You don't have to talk about it, alright? I promise you don't have to."

She nods, closing her eyes and resting her forehead in the crook of his neck, allowing herself to be soothed by the gentle touch. Eventually he moved from her hand to her back, running it down the curve and length of her back carefully and soothingly. Carmen found herself wanting more, just a little bit more. But that would mean falling back into the routine she'd had when she was in highschool...

But _oh,_ how she wanted to give in, to tell him everything that was racing through her mind. She wanted to sit there and cry, to drink herself to stupidity, to howl, to scream, to sleep, to speak. Carmen wanted to look him dead in the eyes and confess the one thing she had been holding back on; the one thing that would ruin her life for good. But love was dangerous. You fell into it so easily, never once doubting anything, happily stumbling and bumbling about without any heed for anything or anyone exceot the one you had fallen for. Love was like a drug. One taste, and you signed your life away.

 _I love you,_ Carmen wanted to scream. She wanted to lash out at him, scream and kick and bite because _love hurt_ not give in! But at the same time, she wanted nothing more than to give in, to lean against him and kiss him and fall into happiness once again. Carmen was split in two. Everything she chose hurt her in one way or another.

The Spanish dancer found she was crying, that she had pulled away from him and had her fists pressed to her eyes to hide that fact. She didn't want to cry. Crying showed weakness. Crying hurt her as well.

"Oh, Carmen..." The words were whispered, Gilbert's tone incredibly soft as he pulled her into his arms and tried to calm her gently.

"I hate you!' She sobbed, looking up at him, tears running down her face. The German blinked, confusion etched upon his features. Before he could get a word in edgewise, Carmen began with a barrage of her own.

"I hate you for being so nice to me! What have I ever done to deserve your niceness? I never... I never _did_ anything to deserve it! You always... you always come in and make everything better somehow with your stupid smile and your eyes and I hate it- I hate it so much! Everyone likes you and you're always flirting with me and I-I don't... I don't know how to deal with it." She chokes on her words, then steadies herself and keeps going. "You always know exactly what to say and what to do and how to make me feel and I always feel... sick or something when you do something sweet. I hate it. I hate you. Why did you have to come around? Why? Why did you have to ruin my life and make me fall for your stupid tricks and your stupid charm and- and-"

"Carmen-"

"I hate you because you made me fall in love with you and you're only going to hurt me like everyone else!"

The shouted words rang out into the silence, the only sound in the silent room was the noise Max's collar made when the tags clicked together. Gil was stunned, Carmen ashamed. She hadn't meant to say any of that. She hadn't meant to lash out at all. Now she had gone and ruined everything. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she pulled away again, muttering something about having to leave.

Carmen didn't get far. Strong arms, much stronger than she had realized, pulled her back against his chest. His voice was stern. "Carmen. Look at me."

"I-I can't. Because you're going to tell me I'm stupid and-"

" _Carmen._ "

She looked up.

Gil smiled, then leaned forward and kissed her.

It was the very last thing she had expected, and she gasped softly. Her mind came to the realization that yes, _Gilbert was kissing her_ , and she leaned into it, kissing back. It was chaste for all of two seconds, merely their lips brushing against each other. She pulled away briefly, their noses bumping together, before she leaned in again and kissed him, harder this time.

Hands found her waist and she was pulled back into his lap, fingertips teasing the skin right where her shirt had rode up a tad. Their lips slid together, slowly at first, but then desperately. All of the tension, both sexual and otherwise, vanished into thin air as they kissed. Gil pulled away after a moment, his eyes half closed. "Do you really want to do this?" He breathed, his lips brushing against hers. She look ed up at him, licking her lower lip (and his in the process), before nodding and whispering a timid; "I love you."

Instantly she was swept into his arms and found herself being showered in a cascade of kisses that peppered her lips, nose, neck, shoulders, cheeks, forehead, and temples. Carmen couldn't help but laugh, the sound sweet and clear amid the silence of the room. Gil pulls away, grinning down at her and brushing her hair neatly out of her eyes. "You silly girl," He murmurs, his eyes soft and full of something unfamiliar to her. "I've been in love with you since the day I laid eyes on you."

"Even drunk?" Carmen teases, catching his palm and tilting her head to kiss the pad of his hand.

"Even drunk." He concedes, lifting her up and laying her gently along the cushions of the couch. Gilbert brushes his hands against her sides, leaning down to kiss at her bottom lip gently, coaxing her to respond. She did after little more than a moment, kissing back and lacing her fingers through his pale mercury colored hair. The kisses deepened, the touches got bolder, and soon Carmen found herself tipping her chin up to allow him access to her neck. From there on, everything melted into loving whispers, gentle touches, and clothes shed left and right.

Eventually, Gil picked her up, carrying her into his room and kicking the door closed behind them, locking out the dog and letting the world melt away into them and only them. If only for one night.

And for one night, one simple tilt of the world's axis, nothing mattered but each other.


End file.
